


Deep Down In His Bones (It Feels Like Home)

by awesomecherry



Series: Awesomecherry's Awesome Stucky Pornathon [10]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Steve Rogers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve is de-serumed and Bucky likes it, Top Bucky Barnes, guest appearances by the rest of the avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecherry/pseuds/awesomecherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wants to ask how Steve’s feeling. If his bones hurt the way they used to, if it’s hard to breathe when he’s so used to not struggling for air, if he’s angry he’s been reduced to what he’s referred to in passing as the ‘inferior version’ of himself. But he also knows Steve wouldn’t give him a real answer if he asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Down In His Bones (It Feels Like Home)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr. No explanation is given for Steve being de-serumed, I just wanted an excuse to write Shrinkyclinks porn. :)

For all that Bucky’s gotten used to Steve’s post serum body, has grown to appreciate it and love it, the second Bucky sees Steve in the medical bay, raspy voice telling the nurses _‘I’m fine_ ’ and stick thin bones protruding from the now oversized cap uniform, Bucky gets rock hard.

It’s a blast from the past, a past all too often riddled with holes from Bucky’s patchy memories, but seeing Steve like this, how Bucky sometimes still pictures him, it’s a fucking gift.

Not that Steve sees it that way of course. Steve, skinny, asthmatic, harsh Brooklyn accent, _so very his Steve_ , is glaring at everyone around him like he can smite them just by looking. He’s trying to be polite to the doctors talking over his head, trying so very hard not to lose his cool, but the glare and the set of his jaw tells Bucky he’s close to letting loose a string of threats and curses that would make Old Man Jenkins back on the Brooklyn docks proud.

Bucky knows he’s got a small window of time that’s getting smaller by the second to get Steve out of the med-bay and into a better mood. He brushes past the doctors and nurse, and _Jesus Christ_ is that Tony sitting in the corner eating popcorn like he’s front row center for the greatest show on Earth? “He said he’s fine, let the man breathe.” He calls out, blocking Steve’s view of everything but him.

Steve lets out the smallest sigh, or maybe that’s he’s just wheezing from the asthma, Bucky’s not completely sure, and smiles crookedly at Bucky, relief shining in his eyes.

“You ready to get out of here, pal?” Bucky grins back, ignores Stark’s huff of disappointment, and glares at the doctor behind Steve when he opens his mouth to say something. “This place is feelin’ mighty crowded.”

Steve nods gratefully, and hops off the exam table he’d been sitting on, wincing from what Bucky’s knows is arthritis in his knees. The Cap uniform slips off one thin shoulder as Steve wraps his arms around his stomach, either to ward off the chill in the room or out of embarrassment, maybe both.

Later, when Steve is sufficiently distracted, Bucky will make sure all the necessary and precautionary medical equipment is delivered to their apartment, that the right specialists have been contacted and are on standby, and that there is food for Steve to eat that doesn’t contain any of his many food allergies. But Bucky’s first priority is to get Steve somewhere he feels safe, less vulnerable.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky is careful not to touch Steve, or make him feel like he’s being herded, but he does stay close to Steve. A silent, intimidating shadow as they walk out of the medical bay and into the elevator.

Bucky wants to ask how Steve’s feeling. If his bones hurt the way they used to, if it’s hard to breathe when he’s so used to not struggling for air, if he’s angry he’s been reduced to what he’s referred to in passing as the ‘inferior version’ of himself. But he also knows Steve wouldn’t give him a real answer if he asked. Better to let Steve stew until Bucky can make his move. He has to time it perfectly.

Steve’s harsh breathing is the only sound on the elevator ride to their apartment. If he notices the constant glances Bucky shoots him out of the corner of his eyes, Steve doesn’t say anything about it.  “I bet you wanna shower, get all that dirt and grime off of you.” Bucky says casually.

Steve snorts and shrugs his shoulders. “Guess I could do with one. Probably need to wash the smell of the med bay off of me. Do you think they make it smell like chemicals on purpose?”

“They’re probably trying to keep you from showing up so often.” It’s a soft jab, the type they usually throw back and forth at each other, but Steve takes it the wrong way, shoulders stiffening as he exits the elevator on their floor.

Bucky sighs but doesn’t try to clarify what he meant. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Instead he makes his way to the kitchen, where he can watch Steve walk stiffly into their bedroom, and when he listens closely, he can hear the shower turn on.

If he knows Steve, and he’s pretty sure he _does_ know Steve in every conceivable manner, Steve will take his time in the shower, rage where no one can see or hear him, let out all of the frustration he’s been holding in until the steam becomes too much for his lungs. Bucky uses the time wisely and calls up Stark to have clothes and medical supplies delivered.

Unfortunately, Tony takes it as an open invitation to bring the supplies personally, and then to stay and wait for Steve to get out of the shower. _“I’ve got to make sure the little guy’s alright.”_ Tony had said, and Bucky had thought briefly about kicking Stark’s ass, but he figures Steve needs the stress relief more than he does.

Bucky drops some sweats and t-shirt off in the bathroom while the shower is still running with a furrowed brow because the clothes look oddly familiar, but they’re the closest thing they have to something in Steve’s new, technically old, smaller size. And then he joins Stark in the living room and tries not to commit murder while they wait for Steve to join them.

Three minutes into the silent staring contest Bucky’s engaged in, _and definitely winning_ , with Stark, Steve startles them both by bellowing from the bathroom, “These are Tony’s clothes!”

Stark grins like he’s just won some sort of prize, and Bucky makes the executive decision to get rid of Stark before Steve can actually murder him. “Stark. Get out.”

“What?” Tony pouts, but gets up and makes his way to the door when Bucky rises and takes a threatening step closer to him. “Fine, fine, just kick me out of an apartment in MY building, that I so graciously let you live in. _For free_ , I might add. I give you the clothes off of my back-”

Bucky slams the door behind Stark before he can finish, and then makes it back to the living room just in time for Steve to come stomping out, wearing what is indeed one of Stark’s many Captain America threadbare tees, and a pair of sweats that say, **Eat Me** on them. Bucky bites his lip to keep from laughing, Stark sure knows how to keep it classy.

“Feel better?” He asks instead of saying one of the twenty innuendos that come immediately to mind.

“What do you think?” Steve snaps, tying the strings of the waistband on the sweatpants to keep them up on his slim hips. When he looks up, the fire in his eyes is painfully familiar to Bucky. He sighs and plops down on the couch in a way that has to be painful. “Sorry, I just didn’t think I’d have to get used to this body again.”

“It’s fine.” Bucky brushes it off, and is about to sit next to Steve when there’s a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.”

Steve waves him off and buries his face in a decorative pillow Natasha forced them to buy, groaning. Apparently, spending some time as a chorus girl really amped up Steve’s sense of drama. Bucky can just barely make out Steve’s muffled, “tell whoever it is to go away.”

Clint is leaning against the hallway wall looking bored when Bucky opens the door. “Can I help you?”

“How’s he doing?” Clint asks, not making any move to come inside. He digs around in his pockets, sneaking the quickest peek over Bucky’s shoulder where Steve’s curled up form is just barely visible. “Aha!” He mumbles, holding out whatever he was searching for, and dumping it in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky represses a smile at the two hearing aids in his palm, and raises an eyebrow at Clint instead.

“I know his file said he used to be hard of hearing, and I had an extra pair.” Clint shrugs, fiddling with his own hearing aid. “I thought they might come in handy.”

“Thanks, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it when he’s stopped sulking.” Bucky tucks them safely away in his pocket, to be placed on their nightstand in plain view for Steve to find later. “He’s not really feeling up to seeing anyone right now.”

“It’s fine, I just thought I’d stop by. I know Stark was here already, and I figured I’d at least give you something useful.” Clint waves him off. “Let me know if I can do anything else.”

Bucky makes a pit stop in the kitchen on the way back to the living room to grab some food for Steve. They really only have a few things that Steve can eat, so he ends up carrying an apple, a ham sandwich, and a package of crackers out with him. “Hungry?”

“Not really.” Steve sits up, and tucks his legs under him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “What did Clint want?”

“Just to check on you.” Bucky nudges the apple closer to Steve, and lays the rest of the food on the coffee table within easy reach before there is another knock on the door. Bucky and Steve groan and the same time. “Who do you think it is this time?”

“As long as it’s not Tony, I don’t really care.” Steve drops his head back against the couch and closes his eyes.

Bucky frowns at Steve for a second, torn between urging Steve to eat and answering the door. He remembers that Steve never used to really get hungry back when he was tiny. His metabolism was so slow he could, and did, go days without eating, until Bucky threatened to force feed him.

This time, Sam and Bruce are waiting in the hallway, both looking chagrinned, but curious. Bucky purses his lips. “Steve, it’s Sam and Bruce. Want them to come in?” He calls over his shoulder.

Bucky’s the only one who hears Steve’s muttered, _“not really”_ , before Steve calls out loud enough for them all to hear, “Sure!”

“You heard the man, come on in.” Bucky waves them inside, shutting the door behind them.

Bucky’s positive he’s not the only one who notices how strained Steve’s smile is when he looks at Sam and Bruce, or how closed off he seems, curled up defensively, making no move to greet his friends with anything other than a fake smile and a nod of his head.

Bucky has to resist the urge to throw Sam and Bruce out. In the right frame of mind, Steve might appreciate their checking up on him. _Might_. But tiny, and in his mind, completely useless, the attention probably feels patronizing, and reminds him of his youth, of being undervalued and overprotected.

“How’re you doing, Steve?” Sam asks, leaning towards Steve with that calm and sympathetic face that reminds Bucky just how good of a counselor Sam is. “It’s gotta be rough, adjusting back to your body pre-serum.”

Steve shrugs and looks away, avoiding everyone’s gazes. “It’s not so bad. Better than being frozen.” It’s meant as a joke but it sets Bucky’s teeth on edge. Steve’s getting deeper and deeper in his bad headspace with every passing minute.

“Technically, I lived with this body longer than I’ve lived with the post-serum body. So I’ve had more than enough practice with it.” Steve’s voice is raw with emotion he trying to suppress. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“If you need someone to talk to Steve, my door is always open. I know what it’s like to have your body change without your consent.” Bruce offers.

The smile Steve gives them is tight, but there’s a look of genuine appreciation in his eyes. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky would be willing to bet his flesh and blood arm that Steve would die before he takes Bruce up on that offer.

“And it’s been awhile since you’ve had to deal with illness, and asthma, and everything else that comes with this body. It’s okay to be upset, or if you need to talk to someone about it. It’s okay to need some help. That’s what friends are for.” Sam says gently.

Bucky sighs internally when Steve’s body stiffens with anger.

“Thanks.” Steve replies stiffly,  “I’m kind of tired though.” Steve shifts on the couch, and fakes a yawn. “It was nice of you guys to stop by.”

Sam and Bruce take it as the dismissal it so clearly is, and both give Steve one last smile before they head out. Sam waves Bucky back into his seat when Bucky goes to walk them out. “We’ve got it. We’ll talk to you later.”

Bucky hears the door open, and then a noise of surprise from Sam, followed by Sam saying, “Oh, sorry Natasha, I didn’t see you there.”

Bucky gets up before Sam can let her in. He cuts off Natasha in the hallway, shooing her back out into the hallway. “No, no, we’re done with visitors for today.”

“I just wanted to-” Natasha starts, but Bucky shakes his head and shoves her gently out of the door. If he’s not firm with her, she’ll walk all over him.

“Sorry, this apartment is closed for the night. Come back some other time.” Bucky says and shuts the door on Natasha’s unimpressed face. He’ll apologize to her later, before she has the chance to take revenge. Right now, Steve comes before Natasha’s feelings.

Steve’s spine is ramrod straight and his breathing is harsh and wheezy, just like it always used to be right before a full attack, when Bucky walks back into the living room. Steve’s moved from his spot on the couch to leaning against the bar, in a position that can’t be good for his arthritic knees.

If there’s a better time to make his move, Bucky’s never seen it. He crowds into Steve’s space, pressing his chest to Steve’s back, and kissing along his neck, licking at the shell of Steve’s ear in the way that never fails to make Steve shiver. “What do you need, Stevie?” He murmurs in Steve’s ear. It’s difficult not to call Steve baby, but Steve’s not ready for that yet.

The first step to getting Steve into the right headspace, is making Steve admit he needs it in the first place.

“C’mon, Stevie. Talk to me.” He turns Steve around with gentle hands on bony hips, kisses Steve softly. The kiss is softer than he wants it to be, softer than he normally would give, because he’s worried about the rapid rise and fall of Steve’s chest.

Steve bites at Bucky’s lips, trying to turn the kiss harsh, violent. He’s so desperate not to be vulnerable, to get Bucky to be rough with him like he usually is. “Fuck me.” Steve demands. “C’mon, Buck. Don’t you want to fuck me like you used to? It’ll be just like when we were back in that tiny shithole of a rat infested apartment. I’ll even bite the pillow to keep quiet.”

“Do you think you can taunt me into it? Taunt me into fucking you hard, making you get out of your head? You know the rules, Stevie. You want something from me, you have to _ask_ me for it.” Bucky has to push now, because Steve _needs_ this, and Bucky wants to give it to him, but he needs Steve to be 100% on board first.

Even back before the war they both knew that while Steve hated feeling vulnerable, he loved the feeling he would get when he let go of control. He loved feeling safe and secure, and knowing that Bucky would take complete care of him. But it’s always been a struggle to get Steve to the point of accepting it. Apparently, 80 plus years hasn’t changed that.

There’s a moment when Bucky thinks Steve is going to push him away, refuse the help Bucky is trying to give him. But then Steve’s shoulders slump and his body goes lax against Bucky’s and Bucky knows Steve’s given in.

“I need it.” Steve whispers, pupils dilating as he stares up at Bucky. “I need it Bucky, please.”

Steve’s tired of fighting. If he has to relive all of the bad things about having his tiny, pathetic body again, he’s damned well going to remember the good stuff too. Like how careful Bucky was with him when he needed it, and how rough with him he was when he didn’t, and the security of knowing Bucky would take care of him either way.

“Okay, baby, okay. That’s all you had to say.” Bucky kisses Steve, this time with all the heat and love he’s feeling. He licks into Steve’s mouth and grinds against him, letting him feel how hard he already is. It’ll take a while for Steve to get fully hard, and even longer to get off, the complete opposite of how his post-serum body reacts, so he has to start working Steve up as early as possible.

Once Steve’s gasping into the kiss, trying to catch his breath and rutting back against Bucky, Bucky picks him up, easy as anything, and carries him to their bedroom. Bucky lays Steve out on their bed and strips him out of Tony’s clothes quickly. If they get ripped beyond repair, it’s not _completely_ intentional.

“Jesus, babydoll, I can’t believe how beautiful you are.” Bucky could spend hours worshiping Steve’s body with his lips and tongue, kissing every inch of exposed flesh. He wants to run his tongue along every protruding bone, kiss every knob of Steve’s spine, suck bruises Steve will feel for days in the sensitive skin of his thighs.

He wants to take Steve apart piece by piece until Steve is a limp, sated pile of come and sweat and tears from utter satisfaction. He wants to make Steve feel so safe and good, that he floats for hours. He wants to fucking _destroy_ Steve.

Steve moans and blushes, he’s not far enough into subspace appreciate Bucky’s words for the truth they are, but he’s getting there. “Bucky, c’mon.”

“I’m getting to it. Hand me a pillow, babydoll.” Bucky takes the pillow Steve practically throws at him and slides it under Steve’s ass, lifting Steve’s hips to alleviate some of the pressure on Steve’s spine. He spreads Steve’s legs wide, and swallows Steve’s half-hard dick, setting to working him up to full hardness.

Steve arches up under him, but Bucky pins his hips, stroking his thumbs over Steve’s prominent hip bones as he blows Steve. He’s more patient than Steve is, who gets frustrated with the slow pace and his body’s slower reaction.

Steve groans, trying to thrust up under Bucky’s firm grip, and when Bucky looks up at Steve’s through his lashes, he notices that Steve is struggling to stay in the right mood, his face marred with lines of frustration.

Bucky pulls off Steve with a wet pop and bites at Steve’s thigh to draw his attention. “You need to relax Stevie, I’m gonna get you there. You gotta trust me, let me take care of you.”

Steve nods, body relaxing a little more against the sheets, but there’s still tension on his face when Bucky only wants to see pleasure. Bucky decides it’s time to change tactics.

He flips Steve over onto his stomach, wedges a hand between the pillow and Steve’s body to get a hand around Steve’s cock, and strokes him while he eats Steve out, getting him wet and loose for his fingers.

He bombards Steve with sensation, teasing his slit with gun-calloused fingers, rubbing at the bundle of nerves just under his cock head while he nibbles nice and light at Steve’s rim, pointing his tongue and dipping it into Steve’s tight hole.

When he gets his tongue as deep as it can go inside Steve, Steve’s cock rock hard and dripping in his hand, he knows he’s gotten Steve to the right place.

Steve moans and whines, body turned to putty under Bucky’s hands. From where Bucky’s hand is tucked close to Steve’s body, he can feel how hard Steve’s breathing, chest stuttering with every whined, _“Ah!”_ and soft plea of _“more, please”_.

Bucky has to pull back to remind Steve to breathe. “If you have an asthma attack, we’ll have to stop, babydoll. Try to breathe right, okay?”

Floating in subspace like he is, Steve takes it as an order, body automatically adjusting to do as Bucky asked without conscious thought because he’s desperate for Bucky to keep touching him, keep making him feel so good. Steve floats on the sensations Bucky showers him with, feeling safe and warm, and so very, very loved.

He’s not sensitive like he is in his big body, doesn’t feel every touch with the same amount of overwhelming sensation he would normally, but there’s something about the lack of overpowering feeling that’s just as good, makes it easier to get to the place where everything feels amazing.

When he’s big, everything is _too much, too good, too right there_ , that he has a harder time breaking away from the present. If Steve were able to think past how good Bucky’s tongue feels inside of him, how amazing his hand feels wrapped around his cock, he’d be thankful for getting to experience this one more time.

Bucky slips one thick, _oh god metal_ , finger inside him beside his tongue, and Steve mewls into the pillow. Every press of that thick finger inside of Steve, every brush against his prostate feels so right, so good, better than he thought anything could feel. He might moan Bucky’s name, maybe he begs for more, Bucky’s not sure if he makes any noise at all other than wheezed breathes, but he knows it doesn’t matter because Bucky always knows what he wants, what he needs, and he always gives it to Steve.

Steve honest to god whimpers when Bucky pulls his finger and tongue free to reach for the lube. It makes Bucky’s heart clench painfully in his chest, because he knows that when Steve gets in this headspace, he can’t bear to be empty, can’t bear to go a single moment without Bucky’s hands on him, _in him_. Spit may be enough for one finger, but Bucky has to use lube for any more than that.

He makes it as quick as possible, squirting the lube over his fingers, and pressing two inside Steve before he can work himself up over being empty. He crooks them and rubs them over Steve’s prostate, twists them and stretches Steve as quickly and efficiently as he can.

Three fingers is a tight fit, a lot tighter than Bucky remembers it being. _Holy shit_ , how did he fit his cock in there back in the day before really good lube was invented? But even though Bucky’s fingers feel like they’re being crushed by the tight grip of Steve’s hole, Steve doesn’t seem to be feeling any pain.

Steve moans and pushes back on Bucky’s hand, trying to get Bucky’s fingers deeper, harder, just _more everything_. Bucky’s pretty sure he’s never seen a prettier sight than tiny Steve Rogers writhing on his fingers, except maybe skinny Steve Rogers writhing on his cock. His cock gives an appreciative twitch in his pants at the mental image.

Bucky wedges his pinky in beside his other fingers, just to make sure Steve is fully ready. If the way Steve bites the sheets and clenches down around him is anything to go by, Bucky’s pretty sure Steve isn’t just ready, but desperate for him. He withdraws his fingers and flips Steve over onto his back so he can watch his face for any signs of distress.

Steve whines, despondent at the sudden emptiness, and reaches clumsily for Bucky, fingers tangling in the shirt Bucky never bothered to take off, and tugging Bucky down, closer to him.

“I know, babydoll. Shh, shhh,” Bucky tries to soothe Steve, ripping the zipper of his pants when he pulls his pants down enough to free his cock. “Here we go, Stevie. Gonna take care of you.” He slicks his cock quickly with his lubed hand, and presses forward into Steve in one thrust.

Steve’s eyes widen, pupils completely obscuring the baby blue, and then he shuts them tight, mouth hanging open as he opens for Bucky. He moans something that could be Bucky’s name, and his body goes completely lax on the sheets, like he’s in no rush to come even though his cock is flushed red and hard against his stomach.

If Bucky’s being honest with himself, seeing Steve so far gone on the pleasure, the ease with which he gave himself over, the amount of trust he’s showing in Bucky, has Bucky riding the edge of coming within the first couple of thrusts. That, and the fact that while Steve is always tight, his smaller body grips him like a too tight glove close to busting at the seams. It’s fucking hot.

But Bucky is determined to make Steve come from his cock, come _on_ his cock. So he makes sure each thrust hits Steve’s prostate, grinds his hips in slow circles that make Steve feel every inch of his cock, and leans forward so the soft cotton of his t-shirt drags over Steve’s sensitive cock. It’s the only extra friction Bucky’s going to provide him.

“You close babydoll? Gonna come on my cock, show me how much you love being fucked? How much you love me filling you up?” He groans in Steve’s ear, sheer force of will the only thing keeping him from coming. “Come for me Stevie, so _I_ can come in you.”

Steve blinks dazed eyes at Bucky, lips bitten red and swollen parted for short breathes to wheeze through. He whimpers, manages to gasp out, “Please!”

“Come for me, Stevie, babydoll. So good for me, coming without me even touching you. Can’t believe I was lucky enough to end up with you, my sweet, good, babydoll. Show me how good you are for me.” Bucky’s voice breaks on the last word, Steve’s hole tightening almost beyond what Bucky can bear, as Steve starts to come all over Bucky’s shirt and his own stomach.

Bucky’s mother-hen instincts makes him want to pull out, because he vividly remembers how sensitive Steve used to get after an orgasm. The line between so good, and too much incredibly thin, and easy to cross. But he also knows Steve, and how Steve thinks while in subspace, and he knows pulling out will only make Steve upset.

Steve won’t be able to get hard again, but he’ll get a different kind of satisfaction from having made Bucky come inside of him. Bucky has to trust that the over-stimulation feels good, like Steve has told him it does, and that he’ll know if it becomes too much, either because Steve will tell him, or Steve’s body language will.

Bucky drops his head into the curve of Steve’s neck, sucking up a mark that’ll last for days. He shivers at the thought of the rest of the Avengers seeing it, knowing that Bucky marked Steve up. They all know they’re fucking, but this will be certifiable proof. Bucky rolls his hips and gets a few sloppy thrusts in before he’s spilling in Steve, buried as deep as he can get, teeth dug into Steve’s neck so hard he’ll be feeling it for hours.

He stills inside of Steve, trying to catch his breath as Steve moans and squirms on his cock. “How you doin, Stevie?” He lifts his head enough to stare into Steve’s glazed eyes. “Feelin better?”

Steve smiles and hums, obviously still not completely back down to Earth. He looks like a fucking angel, blond hair spread out on the pillow under him like a halo. He ruins the illusion when he rolls his hips back against Bucky’s still hard dick, moaning.

It’s tempting to keep fucking him, but chances are he’ll end up fucking Steve again later. He’s not even sure if they’ll manage to leave the bed until Stark shows up with the cure, and he figures he should rest while he can.

He makes the mistake of attempting to pull out, trying to save himself and Steve from extra discomfort, but Steve whines and clutches at him so desperately it damn near breaks Bucky’s heart.

“Hey, it’s fine, m’not going anywhere, babydoll. Hush now.” Bucky tucks an arm under Steve’s back and cradles him to his chest so he can roll them over, settling on his back with Steve on his chest, cock still buried in him.  “I love you, Stevie.”

Steve mumbles something unintelligible in his chest, but when he looks up at Bucky, the love is so clear in his eyes, Bucky doesn’t need to hear it back.

“Go to sleep, babydoll.”

And with one last wiggle on Bucky’s cock, Steve obeys. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be friends on[ tumblr](http://captainbisexualcherry.tumblr.com/)


End file.
